


You Learn Something New Every Day

by Weeglyfeesh



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Clara needs chocolate, Gen, Menstruation, Supply Run, The Doctor needs clarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weeglyfeesh/pseuds/Weeglyfeesh
Summary: The Doctor thought he knew all there was to know about humans.He was wrong.





	You Learn Something New Every Day

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know -- the Doctor not knowing about this kind of thing seems ridiculous, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are.
> 
> Teen rating just in case. Nothing to really worry about, I think.

He’d never been so confused.

When it came down to it, Clara and he had always gotten along swimmingly.

Until today, apparently.

It couldn’t possibly be _his_ fault. He’d hung over the console platform’s railings like an ungainly, overly excited monkey, cheerily greeting the sleep-mussed woman shuffling through one of the lower doors the same as he did every morning. For some peculiar reason, though, his faithful companion for his last few adventures hadn’t reacted with the usual sleepy smile or even a pleasant “good morning”. Instead, she’d given him a glare that had practically burned right through his head.

Then she had turned and headed for the kitchen, her slow movements seeming more ominous than usual.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbled in confusion at her retreating back, bracing his hands on the console. The TARDIS rumbled under his fingertips, almost as if wishing him luck.

Well, that was never a good sign.

Now he was standing outside Clara’s room, pacing a bit nervously, fingers fluttering together. Not a sound had left the room since he had gotten there and the silence was making him frightfully uneasy. Surprisingly, he was almost afraid to find out what was waiting behind that door.

He scraped up what courage he possessed in situations involving his companion and approached the door, hand lifted to knock.

“Don’t even think about it.”

The Doctor jumped, honest-to-goodness jumped, at the sound of Clara’s flat, no-nonsense tone cutting through the door.

“Is…is something the matter, Clara?” he asked half-heartedly, hands twisting back together. Had he unknowingly done something to offend her? She could be very sensitive at times for the strangest of reasons. Like the time he had discovered one of her undergarments hanging in the bathroom.

“The matter is that you are still here,” the woman’s controlled, but tight tone informed him.

Caught off-guard, he did a marvelous fish impression for a few seconds before managing to squeak, “Do you need anything, then?”

To his slowly-growing horror, he heard footsteps on the smooth metal floor and to his shame and embarrassment, he retreated a few steps away as the door swung open to reveal Clara, her hair disheveled and her petite form wrapped in a blue bathrobe, death glare fixed firmly in place.

Sweet Rassilon, she could be intimidating, even in fluffy teddy bear pajamas and pink slippers.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, only to have something thrust into his gesturing hands. He no sooner glanced down to look than the door slammed shut, causing his head to whip back up in shock and confusion.

The list wasn’t much help either.

“What on earth are tampons?” he muttered as he wandered back into the console room, taking the steps two at a time while he looked over the slightly crumpled piece of paper in his hands. “And for that matter, what is Midol? And why does she need chocolate of all things? I thought she was on a diet.”

With a great sigh, he leaned back on the console, idly stroking it. “Maybe she’s just going temporarily bonkers…yeah, that’s it, we’ll go with that.”

Having established a working theory, he proceeded to enter a few coordinates, tapped a bell or two, and pulled the materialization lever. The column moved ponderously up and down in time with the wheezing, groaning sound of space-time travel.

A few minutes later, the Doctor stood in the air-conditioned entrance of a South London Tesco, gazing about the moderately busy store and feeling just the tiniest bit overwhelmed. Nevertheless, he straightened his bowtie and walked determinedly past the row of registers to reach the first section of the store.

He ended up wandering the aisles for twenty minutes before a sales associate found him staring despondently at peanut butter and looking extraordinarily lost.

“Can I help you?” the youngish looking woman asked, leaning in and blocking his view of the crunchy peanut butter section.

He snapped to, eyes scanning over her before he stared down at the list in his hand. Then he sidled up to her, almost timidly.

“Can you tell me what a tampon is?” he whispered, showing her the list.

She glanced from him to the list, her expression shifting from wary to understanding to amused in seconds. “Of course, sir, I’ll get you fixed up. Just come with me.” His grateful and relieved smile made her smile in return, and with a slight beckoning of her head, she led him through the seemingly endless maze of aisles.

Soon he was gaping at a wall of products in all sizes and colors, jaw dropping slightly at the sheer amount of choice. Did human females really need _all_ of this?

“Okay, here we are,” the sales associate announced, lifting a hand towards two different areas of the shelves. “So these are pads,” – her finger indicated some soft-looking packages – “and these are tampons,” she finished, pointing out some smaller boxes. “You’ll want to get one of those. Do you know what size she wants?”

Stiffening, the Doctor turned his head sharply to eye her. “How do you know it’s a she?” he asked, shoulders hunching slightly in suspicion.

But the woman only laughed. “Well, what else would she be? Where did you grow up, Mars?”

“Gallifrey,” he muttered under his breath as he glanced over the brightly colored array of products again, brow wrinkled in concentration. “How on earth am I supposed to know what size she needs? It’s not like she tells me these things! I didn’t even know she _needed_ things like this!”

“What, seriously?” the sales associate said, brushing her brown hair behind her ear as she stared openly at the Doctor, who simply shrugged helplessly, fiddling with his list. “You really don’t know about that time of the month?”

She watched him with a healthy amount of incredulity as he shook his head. “Well…I could tell you, if you like?”

His almost non-existent eyebrows rose in sudden interest. “I would really, really appreciate it,” he replied, nodding furiously and wringing his hands, eyes huge and innocent.

She just gave him a look, then took a breath. “Okay then, here goes…”

Two minutes later, the Doctor just stood there, blinking. The woman waved a hand in front of his face, concern etched on her own. “You alright, mate?”

For a few moments, the Doctor’s mouth just opened and closed, not a sound coming out as he attempted to process this new, rather startling information.

Then he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, eyes wide with unabashed shock and the untimely demise of innocence, his mouth hanging open just the tiniest bit as he whispered dazedly.

“You do _what_...? Out of _WHERE_...?”

The young woman blinked at him. Then a laugh burst out of her, which she quickly tried to cover with a hand. “Sorry, mate,” she said, endeavoring to stifle the giggles erupting out of her. “I figured you knew at least a little something, but I guess I was wrong!”

Still majorly zoned out, the Doctor just continued murmuring, studying his little piece of paper as if it held all the answers to his sudden abundance of questions. “Is there no cure? I’m sure I can figure something out…”

Choking on laughter, the woman stepped forward and plucked a box from the shelf, handing it to him with a bright grin. “I think we’d all enjoy that. These will do, whatever her specifics are. Now, if you’ll just follow me, we can get the rest of your list sorted out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered absently, tagging along behind the woman like an oversized puppy before realizing he now possessed a little blue cardboard box full of long, round things. “I know what these do now,” he muttered to himself almost proudly, scrutinizing the box of tampons he had just been handed.

In front of him, the woman just chuckled to herself, leading the way to the candy aisle.

It wasn’t long before he was leaving the Tesco behind, a shopping bag full of so-called “feminine products”, a tiny bottle of Midol, and supersize bags of both Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms clutched firmly in hand (judging from the woman’s description of quick-changing moods, he thought it best to have plenty of supplies ready to calm the beast).

Back in front of Clara’s bedroom door, he hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, the plastic bag rustling in his hands. Then, summoning what courage remained, he lifted his hand and rapped twice on the door.

The approaching footsteps didn’t instill quite so much fear now and he barely flinched as the door was flung open. Clara was still wearing her bathrobe, but it looked like a hairbrush had discovered her hair and she’d gone as far as putting a bit of mascara on.

The Doctor visibly gulped as the young woman leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms, remnants of the death glare waiting just below the surface and poised for swift and fierce usage.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You got it?”

Wordlessly, he nodded, holding the bag out to her and desperately hoping he didn’t look terrified – he was pretty sure she could smell fear at this point.

She took it and rummaged through the contents for a few moments, glancing critically between him and the bag a couple times. He waited, hearts thumping in trepidation, hands fiddling with everything they could possibly get ahold of.

When she was finished, Clara crossed her arms and proceeded to level a long look at him, her eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit.

Then she took a quick step forward.

An embarrassing little yelp escaped him and the Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, arms flying up in a dramatic pose meant to ward off any incoming physical violence.

But all he felt was a soft brush of lips against his cheek.

Utterly confused, the Doctor’s eyes flew open just in time to see a small smile appear on Clara’s face.

“You really are amazing,” she remarked, the smile turning into a grin. “How did you manage it?”

It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t even remotely cross with him, a moment longer to grasp that she was actually quite pleased. “Brilliantly,” he finally said, arms still raised, but grinning a bit. “Though the Tesco lady might have helped a little…or a lot.”

Clara just laughed, slipping back into her room and shutting the door, the precious bag of supplies swinging from her wrist.

Leaving the Doctor a tiny bit prouder and in a position that he was slowly realizing made him look extremely ridiculous.

With an embarrassed huff, he started back to the console room, one hand stealing up to touch his cheek.

Human females – he was never going to understand them.


End file.
